dickhouse app

April 08, 2014

Though we never worked with Mickey Rooney, the late great actor from the Golden Age of Hollywood who passed away the other day at the age of 93, we did collaborate with his son Michael Rooney, who choreographed all the dance sequences that comprised the musical close to jackass number two (2006). And if we want to get even further into our close knit six degrees of separation, Michael also worked with Spike Jonze on the two award-winning music videos for Björk's "It's Oh So Quiet" and Fat Boy Slim's "Praise You" (in fact, that's probably how we came to work with him in the first place, via Spike's referral). In honor of Mickey's passing, here is Richard Koufey and the Torrance Community Dance Group in a performance of a lifetime:

March 29, 2014

Have I done the hug 'n' kiss shtick yet with Amanda? Ah, screw it. The Simpsons pretty much own that one, so let 'em have it. They deserve it. Instead, let's go with what we know: dicks. While on the road for Jackass Presents: Bad Grandpa, which can be owned unrated on Blu-ray/DVD/HD digital download, dicks became a staple entertainment while out on the town at night, especially at Connolly's on Fifth in Charlotte, North Carolina, where we pretty much camped out during our two-point-five stays there. Not to steal away any of Amanda's birthday thunder (not that I can, she'll bring it hard—so hard—wherever she may be celebrating today), but people always compliment my cocks, praising the detail and sense of realism I bring to them—particularly when it comes to the veins. Now, looking at my arm, it's no wonder that I put extra-special emphasis in the veins, as it would appear I've gotten nothing but veins. Hmm. Might have to get that checked out; or, at the very least, start whoring myself out at the Red Cross. Anyway, Happy Birthday, Amanda!

March 13, 2014

To be clear, Dickhouse doesn't have a dog in this kickstarting fight, but it's no secret that a good, thick, viscous wad of us have had not only the physical act of skateboarding in our past but a helping hand (or probing finger) in its "visual mythology" as well. Take Jeff Tremaine for instance. He was the art director on Big Brother skateboard magazine from late '92–mid '00. That's like eight whole years of layout-slinging, cover-designing, and type-finagling, all done in the graphic name of skateboarding. And, yes, several of his paintings were also used on skateboard decks produced by Plan B, Prime, 101, Blind, Foundation, and Birdhouse. Then you have Rick Kosick and Dimitry Elyashkevich, both longtime Big Brother staff photographers and filmers to the skateboarding stars. Spike Jonze, hell, he was not only a skate photographer, but the director of the legendary Blind Video Days and co-founder of The Girl Skateboard Co. (which he still has an active creative hand in to this day). And lastly there's Cliver, to slip on a turd into the third person, who has been an active board artist since 1989, when he first started at Powell-Peralta, a/k/a the home of the world famous Bones Brigade, before moving onto World Industries, double-dipping with Big Brother, and years later compiling the Disposable skate graphics books.

Anyway, you get the skart idea. But this other guy, Matt Bass, had a more expansive idea on the art of skateboarding topic, and he's run the fuck with it the past several years compiling interviews and footage with many of those responsible for how skateboarding looks today, 40 years after Wes Humpston first started hand-drawing boards in the cuts of Dogtown. Neil Blender, Mark Gonzales, Chris Miller, Ed Templeton, Marc McKee, Steve Rocco, Natas Kaupas, V. Courtlandt Johnson, Steve Olson, Andy Jenkins, Jim Phillips, Don Pendleton, Tommy Guerrero, Tony Hawk, Lance Mountain, Thomas Campbell, John Lucero, Todd Francis—you name 'em, he's tracked 'em down and got 'em all on tape talking about the allure of art and artists in relation to skateboarding and the history thereof. Now he just needs a wee bit o' the financial aid to help realize the final edited documentary.

February 24, 2014

Notice I said "Dickhouse" and not "Dickens" because this tale should arouse nothing near great expectations. Fact is, both days of birth belonging to Dimitry and myself—the 23rd and 15th respectively—occurred on the weekends and those days are reserved for warrior-like activities, none of which pertain to the Interweb, no matter how wild and worldwide it may be. So with a third party ghost-like presence, I look back in time, refer to myself as Cliver, and fondly recall a moment in an oversize strip mall parking lot while shooting Jackass Presents: Bad Grandpa when the crew was spinning its production wheels big-time while waiting to prank a charter bus that, little did they know then, was never going to show. In other words, they might as well have made a big money pile, set it alight, and sat around the case bonfire swapping tales and sipping PBRs for a couple hours. The universe, in its defense, did try to send them a sign to abandon all hope and return whence they came (Charlotte, NC). This message arrived in the form of a bird in flight that struck a power line overhead and plummeted to the ground where it lay dead at their feet. Pretty heavy-handed, God, but that didn't stop Dimitry from spitting in the face of ill fate. He picked up the carcass and posed for Cliver's camera, as the crew proceeded to pack in the ass piles while seated in the parking lot for a good hour more before finally calling it a day.

Good story, Amanda!*

P.S. Happy Birthday, Cliver! Happy Birthday, Dimitry!

* Inside joke of no purpose other than to say Amanda has a similar talent for telling stories that go nowhere fast, if ever anywhere in the end, at which point we all chime in, "Good story, Amanda!" to make the wasted minutes vaguely worthwhile.

January 28, 2014

Not a digger of downloads? Prefer your digital compact and frisbee-like? Well, lucky you and all that other Irish begorrah, because the Jackass Presents: Bad Grandpa Unrated Blu-ray/DVD is available instore and online today from all your favorite media fronts. For example, you can simply click HERE and be whisked away direct to Amazon to purchase your copy now; or, if you've got the gas to guzzle and the care to commute, there's always Target or Best Buy for that truly tactile consumer experience. Once you have it in hand and you're ready to paw through all that added value, look forward to seeing almost all the faces* above with a booty of behind-the-scenes featurettes on the making of Jackass Presents: Bad Grandpa. Woo-hoo!

October 31, 2013

Dick dribbling off yesterday's post, I remembered the staff over at bleacherreport.com had filmed our flash invasion of their office space in San Francisco (just off Bush!) during our field trip. So, instead of letting my fingers go googling (it's lowercase when used as a verb, isn't it?), I reached out to La Roja Falsa, a/k/a Tamar, at Paramount and, lo and behold, the video had been all finished and posted back on October 22nd. So much for my social networking prowess. Anyway, it's presented here below now, and it kinda reminds me of the old jackassworld.rip office space (although bleacherreport.com does have A LOT more windows), specifically when Johnny Knoxville was swatting handfuls of nuts at Jeff Tremaine in the kitchen space. Well, I would also have to say the time Jackson took the waste bin and tossed that down the bowling/conference table and then proceeded to nut every person holding a camera—including me—all of which really smacked of the old pink bat days...

October 28, 2013

Promises, promises. I've made and broken my fair share in life, but usually with passable good reason, e.g. this belated post. Yes, just as you should eat your peas and carrots and brush your teet before bed, so must you regularly back-up your shit. I first made the mistake not to and then proceeded to make a second mistake by attempting to download the latest Mavericks OS update. One frozen laptop, two pints of cold sweat, and five hours at the Apple store later, I'm back from the grave and ready to party! So, without further who gives a shit ado, "Last call!"

Photos left to right: The family of First AD Joe Oz with stand-ins Ron Foster and Jonathan Dockery; 600ers Eric Wolfinger, Nicole Martinez, Andrew "Sleepy" Laboy, and Tom Heigl.

Well, there wasn't really a hard last call for the Jackass Presents: Bad Grandpa "after party" at the Roosevelt last Wednesday night. The smart among us—yes, there are a few—do know how to extend the party past the point, and that's usually the point at which the party really gets fun. And it did. However, those are the stories best kept to the confines of our office (in accordance with holly-jolly Maritime Law), so most of these photos were taken when most were still presentable—emphasis on most. By the way, seeing as this was our unofficial wrap party for the flick's crew, I just wanted to throw out a "Good job, everyone!" as we unseated Gravity for the box office weekend take. Woohoo!

Photos left to right: Former Skateboarder Magmen, Jaime Owens and Aaron Meza; Dimitry Elyashkevich does a little verbal judo with security after going for an unauthorized swim during the party.

Photos left to right: Amanda's Dad and Not Amanda's Dad; Mae gets back in black with Shad Yassini; Charlie Grisham gets stunty with Dimitry post-swim.

Photos left to right: Seeming amputee Molly Elin with Sean "I'm Taking a Momentary Break From the Camera" Cliver; Caroline Patterson, some dude who was introduced to me but I can't recall his name, Lindsey, and Heather Brown in fleetingly composed form; Spike Jonze was a cake and we ate him, too.

Photos left to right: Tremaine and Knoxville with the man who can locate every custard storefront in the nation, Craig Van Gundy—he nasty; Joe "Jacket Off" Oz and Michelle Miller; Jen Clark and Heather pass the point of no return while Derek Freda and Greg "Chuck" Harris pantomime the semblance of sense with one another.

August 19, 2013

Yes, I'm sure it appears we are mired in the maelstrom of Jackass Presents: Bad Grandpa, but it helps to be the man behind the rainbow curtain with his finger on the pulse of the promotional schedule. That said, I feel safe in taking a pause to remember our roots: skateboarding! For without skateboarding it's tough to say any of us would be where we are now with people wondering exactly where we are now ... or something glib like that. But in ode to the board and the magazine that brought us up from the depths, a/k/a Big Brother, let's shed a concrete spotlight on an otherwise uncovered event.

Photos clockwise from upper left (but starting first with the big one up top): One of my favorite tricks of the day, a huge, clean, pad clearing kickflip by now two-time Shred Fest champ Tyler Dunn; Pop-up tents for the shady win; Cold War Ryan confers with MC Dustin; Mark Vicker provided the stencils and paint for the day; Ricky Nunn backside flipped the hip with familial and consistent authority.

This past weekend, in the relatively unremarkable city of Stevens Point, WI, a fundraising/jam event was held at what I feel is a fairly remarkable skate park. Sure, it's not the Fortress of Concrete Solitude some super skaters may seek out in the corners of this world, but it's a tight little rig situated right on the Wisconsin River with a positive community vibe—the kind that will rally together on a summer Sunday afternoon to fire up a grill and skate for the fucking fun of it all. But every year, longtime Stevens Point skate stalwart John Pearson and Cold War local Ryan Soroko throw together a homespun competition that has since become known as the "Shred Fest", this being the third such annual shindig.

Photos clockwise from upper left: Little guns with a big crooks; A crow couldn't have flown more straight than Cregg Glover between the catty-corner quarters; Seng sends a 50-50; resident trick-flipper Johnny Frederickson does just that with a heel up the step-up under casual scrutiny from the judges.

The competition aspect of "Shred Fest" is always loose, free form, and strictly backyard in nature, but that's exactly what it's supposed to be—especially when you have the X-Games and Street League leading the mainstream televised charge. So at the end of the day the winnings and placings are secondary to the overall vibe of the day, fostering the local skate community, and imparting the importance of supporting your local shops and parks. Speaking of charitable which, if you're feeling sinister, don't go and tell a minister, go here to donate now and make all of our expansion dreams come true! After all, every skateable ledge formation should not suffer the ignoble fate of warming asses and holding drinks, keys, phones, and every other pocket accessory item. Support Operation Ledge Liberation!

Photos clockwise from upper left: Ben Hess heads toward a disaster in the bowl jam; Cole Wayka tiptoes backside through the two hips; John Pearson cools off the hot sticker hoarding hordes; Open class contest winner Tyler Dunn gets iced the old fashioned way by Joshua Sturm.

August 07, 2013

Random is as random does, but in the world of genetics that chaotic theory is just plain freaky. Consider this: Three separate instances of lookalikes have been spotted within the past week—none of which are K-Files! Now that's fucking alarming. Instead we have Dimitry Elyashkevich, myself, and, perhaps most peculiar of all, OG Big Brother skate mag editor and board graphics legend Marc McKee. Talk about some sloppy ass chromosomes. Anyway, special thanks to the keen eyes of Jeff Tremaine, who picked out the McKee amongst the many convicted faces in Tennessee's Just Busted News, and Johnny Knoxville, who god knows where found the renegade DNA driblets of a Cliver and a Dimitry.

July 29, 2013

This past weekend the extended Dickhouse clan gathered to celebrate the memory of Ryan Dunn in our 2nd annual softball tournament. Anticipations were hot and hard going into the weekend, what with the rash of injuries, mishaps, and probable acts of God that occurred during last year's tourney, and numerous names were bandied about in an "injury pool" as to who would be going to the emergency room this time around. Last year's primary O.A.F. candidate, Derek Freda, would've topped this list had he not wisely decided to sidestep the games this time around to act as base coach for fear of reinjuring his Achilles.

Photos from left to right: Rick Kosick holds down home plate; Jeff Tremaine knows everything comes to you at first base with minimal to no running around required; Amanda Adelson won the award for Most Stylish Player With The Worst Cornhole Toss Ever; Team Black.

Four teams in all competed for top honors: Red, Black, Royal, and defending champions Navy. The first round saw Red v. Black on one field with Royal v. Navy on the opposing diamond. Apparently, Johnny Knoxville and Greg Wolf were carrying the Reds as far as they could feasibly go, but it was not enough to best the Blacks at the end of five innings.

Photos from left to right: Jennifer Welsh, the pride of Indiana; Once again Dave England proves you don't need two nuts—just a bat and one ball will do; Chris Pontius is a master when it comes to batter and boxes; Team Red.

The Royals put up the good fight, but Navy came out swinging hard—so hard—with its lead "ringer", strategist, and alleged hotel hero Charles Grisham, who pounded homers virtually every time at bat. Needless to say, Navy stomped a mudhole in the Royal hindquarters.

Photos from left to right: Team Royal; Mae gave it her best cornhole arc on the pitcher's mound; Donny "I Need A Pinch Runner Because My Ankle Is Hobbled" Anderson throws a sign from second base.

All teams and presiding family members then took a lunch break after the first match-ups. Basically just enough time for everyone to stuff themselves and stiffen up. Miraculously, no injuries were had in the first two games, so bodies were definitely primed and pumped to pop in the final championship and consolation rounds with Navy v. Black and Red v. Royal.

Photos from left to right: Team Navy; Young Loiter Squad star Jack at bat; Li'l Shanna busts out of the batter's box; Charlie Grisham knocks another one out of the park with ease.

Much to everyone's surprise, however, no injuries occurred in either of the final games. Once again, Charlie carried the Navy team through the innings with consistent on-base hits from everyone else and solid defensive play in the field. Consequently, Black found themselves in a pickle and held to minimal runs scored, allowing Navy to take the championship for the second year in a row!

Photos from left to right: The Knoxville Strong Boy slugs it into the outfield; Volney Howard IV closes out the Black v. Red game with a pop fly snare; Knoxville on first base with Derek Freda safely in stationary base coach position.

All in all a great day was had in Glassellland. Special thanks to Shanna Zablow, Amanda Adelson, and the Dickhouse team of assistants and interns for pulling the event together—Ryan would've been proud.

Photos from left to right: It was a great day for fathers and sons... Volney Howard IV mans the mound with V5 right behind on second base; Guch pounds softballs like an Eskimo beats a walrus skull; Emerson robs a ball from Dimitry's catcher mitt; Jesse Hoy, large but nowhere in charge of third base in the final game.

(Photos by Sean Cliver with a special assist from Johnny Knoxville; Glassell Park, California 2013)

July 12, 2013

There's something to be said about almost anything, god knows the Interweb needs to be fed shovels of superfluous shit every day, case in ridiculous fucking point, but there's something really special to be said about having a movement, witnessing a movement, or being part of a movement. The first two aren't that hard to attain—I've done both at home and work in leisure and consternation—but it's the last that can be elusive, and, as such, all the more coveted. Unfortunately, though I've trickled out my fair share of dick scribblings, I've never come up on a copy of The Herald Sun to do so and, consequently, never made a name for myself in the phenomenon that it has since become. Yes, this dick has long blown port, and a penetrating documentary is already well in the works. Here's a French tickler of things to come:

June 27, 2013

It's not quite a Big Brother reunion, but it's close enough for horse shoes, hand grenades, and cornhole bag purposes. You see, our old friend Heather, who used be the magazine's director of advertising from 1995–2004, just opened a new store in Reno, Nevada, called Happy Happy Joy Joy, and she's hosting a potentially socially awkward night with Marc McKee and I slinging and signing our respective books, Warning: The Art of Marc McKee and The Disposable Skateboard Bible. All the info is on the flier above, but let's do it basic for all the 'bots, spiders, and whatever other web crawlers pick through the textual shit for search purposes: The event will take place on the evening of Saturday, July 6, from 7-10pm. Snacks and beverages will be available, because hand-to-mouth is still the best presentable and most accessible form of social-based lubricant. Happy Happy Joy Joy is located in Midtown Reno at 955 S. Virginia St. #102.

June 21, 2013

Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later: someone has done gone and created a machine that draws a penis.

Now I applaud their absurd ingenuity to no end—hats off for sure—but I've got a steaming buffalo chip on my shoulder when it comes to computers and art, and this technology strikes far too close to a home that's near, dear, and dicky to my heart.

No doubt at some point in a dystopian future my phallustration skills will be made obsolete by the machine, but today is not that day (you can be the judge, jury, and executioner below) and until it arrives I'll be pounding out the dicks by hand until the Sharpie has to be pried from my cold, arthritic, and quite possibly blacked out grasp.

Presenting EXHIBIT A:

And here is EXHIBIT B:

What better way to cover up those pesky penises than with the finest in Dickhouse apparel! Order up your rainbow slathered shirts, sweats, jerseys and more at: http://www.merchmethod.com/dickhouse

June 19, 2013

This past weekend, we, the people of Dickhouse, gathered in what would appear to be one of those "office buddy" retreats made popular by super mega corporations and the company morale they strategically hope to foster, but was in fact just an excuse for us all to get wet, wild, and wakesurf. Individual skillsets and styles were all over the board on the board and overboard, but everyone got up and that's all that mattered in the end. So here, presented in classic Brady Bunch formation, are the weekend players and the wakes that they worked hard—so hard:

June 11, 2013

While out to dinner the other night with Knoxville, Dimitry, and Amanda, we decided to have a vagina drawing contest. I know, sounds weird, seems all we like to do is focus on the male genitalia, e.g. dicks, balls, and such, but earlier circumstances dictated otherwise and Knoxville decided to put us all to the illustrated test—primarily myself, as I'd somewhat botched a drawing of a vagina the night before. I have my excuses, good ones, I think, but no one had their listening ears on and didn't give two shits what I had to say in defense, so we each received a small piece of paper and pen and went to work on a leveled playing field.

Needless to say the results speak for themselves, but I'm an admittedly biased dick. So, with that in mind and starting at top left, we have Amanda's "interpretation" of a vagina. Though she has one of her own, you really couldn't tell it from the drawing, which Knoxville went on to aptly describe as a "desiccated apricot" (I would've given her the benefit of a halved dwarf papaya, but to each their own in describing crude renditions of spoiled fruit). Next up, at top right, we have Knoxville's entry—a classic bush and navel scenario, and, I have to concede, one of Knoxville's truly better scrawlings (you'll have to trust me in this as I've witnessed a number of his painstaking efforts over the years—he was so proud he even signed it!). Bottom right is mine, where I believe to have redeemed myself from the prior night's fiasco (which just so happened to unfortunately take place on a poor girl's upper arm), and yes, I do pay attention to the details, as witnessed by the inclusion of the perineum and other lady bits; However, Dimitry and Knoxville both accused and/or dismissed me of going home and doing some online studying, but you know what? They can go fuck themselves. Anyway, Dimitry's is the last at bottom left and it does nothing but underscore his Russian heritage. It's wild, it's wooly, it's 100-percent baBUSHka to the '70s tee.

But there you have it: the results of the 2013 Dickhouse Vagina Drawing Contest, which ended in a hotly contested debate that no doubt annoyed several other restaurant patrons. Tomorrow, rest assured, we'll return to our regularly scheduled parade of dicks.